Prologue

My God. What. Was. I. Thinking.

Well, as usual… thinking wasn't really part of the equation.

It was late. I was keyed up. Frustrated. But still.

I may have just ruined everything.

What. Was. I. Thinking.

Chapter One

"Philip! Jamie! Fellas hurry!"

They were finally going to be late. Every morning they ran it a bit closer, but this time, this time, they weren't going to make it.

Amanda's voice had an uncharacteristic tone—impatient. Even angry.

Every day had a firm schedule that had to be followed to the minute—or chaos.

Now with Jamie in chess club and Philip in baseball, even with Mother's help, their schedule clearly needed refining. They also just needed to move faster.

But to be fair, she was not herself. She was going through the motions in a daze—weeks later, when she would look back, the morning would be a blur.

She cringed remembering the previous night. Lee had asked her to accompany him to a French Embassy event where he would make a simple contact; but from the moment he picked Amanda up in his Corvette, he was noticeably withdrawn. Her attempts to start conversation went nowhere, and she noticed that Lee began to visibly stiffen in a way that alerted Amanda to a distancing on his part.

Lee finally began to speak, but it sounded rehearsed, even formal to her ears: "Amanda we have spent a lot of one-on-one time recently…but I just wanted to clarify that these friendly outings... "

"Friendly outings?"

"I mean... we aren't on actual dates."

A sinking feeling enveloped Amanda. Here we go again.

Just when it seems like there was something truly developing with Lee… the pendulum had swung the other direction.

"Well to be fair Lee… I don't show up outside your window at all hours." She regretted the words as soon as she said them. It was thrilling to see him arrive, especially unexpectedly, in the garden, just for her. She would never admit it… perhaps not even to herself… but when he would gesture to her to come outside to speak alone… so that he could confide in her about a case… it was a rush she had never known. And if her remark made him reconsider his secret visits, even for a moment, she would always regret it.

Lee continued, unfazed by her response. He spoke, as if by rote, "Don't get me wrong; I always enjoy your company, and I really am grateful for your friendship…" She suspected this was a refrain that he had sung to many a clingy woman in his time. She was now being treated as one of his former "backgammon" players. This stung. After a challenging start, she and Lee had become very good friends. Successful partners. She was not a casual fling prompting a patronizing brush-off. Amanda's cheeks started to flush as she began to feel her anger rising.

Amanda bristled, "Lee, I am here this evening because you asked me to accompany you on an assignment—nothing more." Amanda was protesting too much. Of course there was always something more between them. Even now, as they were arguing and his hazel eyes refused to look at her, a whiff of his aftershave and a glance at his presence in the Corvette momentarily distracted her. His long, handsome body… his strong hands so nimbly steering the car. She had imagined… late at night… when everyone was asleep—what it would feel like to have those hands touch her-really, touch her…

She forced herself to focus: "Lee, please recall, as I have mentioned before, I never have any fun on our faux dates anyway—so no 'actual dates' are necessary."

Lee, now defensive himself, reverted to the cocky lothario, "Oh don't you worry, If I were to take you on a real date, you would have no complaints."

Amanda wondered what had prompted this reversal—yet again. They had been growing in intimacy—physically and emotionally—and here Lee went, regressing back to the caddish playboy she had met three years ago.

SMK SMK SMK

By the time they arrived at the embassy event, there was silence. Not the affable silence they frequently enjoyed as friends—as they read the morning paper in the Q Bureau or completed the crossword at lunch—but instead a stifling, toxic silence.

Lee's contact was made quickly, without incident, and as he escorted Amanda perfunctorily to the dance floor, she dreaded the charade that they would be enacting-that of a happy couple on an evening out. They certainly looked the part; no one wore a tuxedo like Lee Stetson. No one. And after a couple of years attending agency functions, Amanda had cultivated an assortment of lovely gowns.

Tonight's spaghetti -strap white dress had earned her more than a few stares in the past—but tonight Lee's focus was clearly elsewhere. As they danced, Amanda noticed Lee's jaw clench. She had observed that before—when he was stressed… nervous… frustrated… but why now? When he was dancing with her? Was it really that revolting to be this physically close to her?

The disc jockey was playing old standards- Sinatra, Basie, and the like, and had just begun Ella's "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" as they began to dance.

Lee whispered in her ear, "See this isn't so bad, is it Amanda?"

The sheer magnitude of Lee's mixed signals was staggering.

"I never said dancing with you was unpleasant Lee—I suppose I don't understand how I am supposed to respond."

As Amanda's scent, a mix of jasmine and vanilla, reached him, Lee instinctively drew her closer. He knew it was cruel—telling her there's no hope of romance, and then pulling her to him…but he felt desperate. Lee felt Amanda's lithe body next to him, and he cherished their closeness…a closeness that seemed increasingly fragile.

For her part, Amanda had had enough with the game-playing.

"Lee if you have met your contact, we don't need to stay for my benefit. I have plenty of things to do at home."

"You're not enjoying yourself?" he said flirtatiously.

Amanda curtly pronounced: "Frankly, not in the least." The comment sounded harsher than she intended.

Lee looked directly in her eyes; he looked genuinely wounded. Amanda immediately regretted the barb.

For a moment she saw that haunted look which periodically swept across his face—prompted by Eva—the loss of his parents—and now…by her. He quickly glanced away.

Moving her hand to his cheek, forcing eye contact, Amanda remarked, "Lee, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean that. But you are distancing yourself one minute and charming me the next— what do you want from me?"

He moved to hold her close again, and softly whispered in her ear, "Oh Amanda… what I want…what I want… is you"—and lightly kissed the top of her bare shoulder.

A shiver ran down her spine, and he felt her shudder. Lifting his head, he looked directly into her eyes. His pained expression from moments before had been replaced by one of determination.

Amanda couldn't believe it… he was about to kiss her… in the middle of the dance floor. Despite all he had said minutes earlier in the car. The charge between them was pulsating, and she could feel his breath on her lips….

Amanda, surprising herself, stopped him. "Lee are you sure about this?… I mean people can see us, you know… people you might know… I mean it is fine with me… more than fine… not that I'm expecting it…. but… " Lee silenced her with a single finger to her lips, a motion which only further amplified the electricity between them.

Echoing from some distance, Ella sang

"I'll sing to him

each spring to him

and long for the day when I cling to him"

Though Amanda's pride urged her to move away from him, the feel of Lee's hand on her back, just slightly below its normal spot, and the tender embrace of his arms, his finely-toned arms that allowed him to pummel many a bad guy to a pulp —had her frozen. She stopped dancing. Moving. Breathing.

Lee looked in her eyes and began to lean in… but just when he had almost grazed her lips with his own, he stopped altogether. That pained, haunted look returned. He said "I'm so sorry, Amanda." And left her. In the middle of the dance floor.

Amanda was mystified. Why would Lee give a speech on boundaries, hold her so tenderly-so intimately- and then walk away? Her cheeks flushed as she noticed others staring in her direction; in all of her times with Lee, he had never made her feel so ridiculous. Donning a fake smile, she walked, in a daze, off the dance floor.

Even in her fog, Amanda couldn't help but notice the song's refrain: "Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I."

To Be Continued…